


Baby Fever

by KoroMarimo



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Golisopod - Freeform, Planned Pregnancy, Pokemon - Freeform, Pregnancy, Wimpod - Freeform, baby fever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 20:30:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10543888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoroMarimo/pseuds/KoroMarimo
Summary: He saw friends with them. Former grunts who hadn't been as fortunate in finding a home after Team Skull as he was, yet they were richer than he. Bouncing little toddlers with smiling faces, stroking swollen stomachs, shopping for miniscule clothes. Guzma couldn't understand how exactly this made one rich, but there was one thing he did know:He wanted a baby, and he wanted it with you.





	1. He's Got it Bad...

**Author's Note:**

> What is even “baby fever”? Not sure that I know, but I do know that I have kitten fever. And now after writing this I definitely have Wimpod Fever.

“Guzma let me see! I don’t want to ram into the wall!”

“Just keep your eyes shut babe! We’re almost there…”

His large, warm hands press a little harder against your eyes as though he believes you have them open. Minutes ago you were engaged with cleaning two ornery Golisopod shells in the tub with a toothbrush and some Pokémon soap (It had been a chore trying to clean Gumdrop, his little girl as he calls her, and your big boy Gazpacho. They had been cuddling and purring in their own little bug away and refused to be cleaned), but his whining and nagging has finally gotten the better of you. After towel drying the giant isopod Pokémon off you follow him, only to have your eyes covered. You stumble blindly wherever he leads you, holding onto his arms and pressing your back flush against his soft abdomen.

“Ok, now look.” He says at last, joy in his voice when you come to a halt.

Your open eyes are greeted with worn wooden bars in the shape of a box. Soft pastel bedding with pictures of fluffy Mareep prancing over little gates and bushes, the tiny mattress nestled safely within the bars along with a small matching plush toy that looks as though it has been very much loved for many years. It’s a comfortable, well used looking crib that would surely be the safe haven of any small child. But why it’s in your apartment living room is a mystery.

“Guzma.” You state simply.

“I know it looks a little gnarly now.” He insisted, patting the wood as though it was an old friend, “But I figure if give it an oilin', mebbe find a new mobile, then wash this lil' guy with the sheets, I think it’ll look real nice again. We could move it in our room next to the bed, thataway we’ll be close if somethin’ happens.”

“Guzma…”

“Come on babe! You gotta admit ’s a good first time crib. Better 'n gettin' one a those cheap ones that break right away.”

“Guzma, I’m not pregnant. Why did you buy this thing?”

There’s a flash of realization that flickers across his eyes like a lightning bolt, quickly followed up by a strange expression. Longing? Sadness? One of the two, you’re not sure which. But this is the first time you’ve ever seen him so downtrodden by something you’ve said. It's especially unusual to watch him let go of you and seek the comfort of the crib.

“I know that.” he says quietly after a while.

“So why did you buy it?” you ask again, “I’m not mad baby, I just want to know.”

Guzma is unsure how to answer, opting to run his fingers across the bedding until they come across the soft toy. He worries it in his hands. Avoiding the question for as long as it takes. You sit down on the couch, scratching your tummy from under your shirt and waiting patiently. Taking a deep breath he sits down next to you, seemingly drawing strength from the Mareep toy.

“I want a baby.” He replies at last.

You’re thunderstruck, eyes widening and your nerves tangled up in a myriad of confusion. How does one feel about this request when you’ve only been living together for a few months? There are so many things that haven’t been settled. His father is still leaving threatening messages with the league. Your mother hasn’t quite warmed up to the fact that your relationship started up so quickly. Demands from your being the champion keep you away from the house more often than you’d like to admit, especially now that you’re slacking on your duties to be with Guzma much to the chagrin of countless eleven year olds and Professor Kukui. The work piles up, sometimes you become upset at each other for reasons such as neglect, but you never thought he would be ready for such a drastic step.

“A what?” you croak, thinking perhaps he has responded with something else.

“A baby.” he says again. His voice seems to gain in strength, as though the toy has given him his voice back, “Been seeing some of my friends in town, mostly the girls are the ones who got a little kid with ‘em. They look real happy. Probably never seen ‘em that happy before. I unno… I got the baby fever bad babe…”

“I…” what could you say? You can only sink further into the couch. Guzma isn’t looking at you anymore, probably thinking the worst as his grip tightens around the Mareep toy. Palpable silence lingers in the air for quite some time. It’s finally broken when Guzma inhales, letting it out slowly before continuing to defend his desire.

“Just been thinkin’ too… Would be like… nice to have somethin’ that’s ours.”

“Ours?”

“Yeah. Somethin’ that we didn’t have to rely on anyone else for. Somethin’ we made on our own, ya know? Somethin’ I can call mine, and you can call yours, but we know it’s both of us that made it.” He seems to have more conviction, despite the fact that he cannot find the words to describe what it is he wants exactly. You're confused and frankly, a little hurt. The implications of his words are heading into territory that makes you feel insecure. As though no other proofs of this relationship matter except the baby.

“But isn’t our love like that? Isn’t it something we didn’t need anyone else to give us? We made this,” you indicate to the apartment around you, to the two Golisopod waddling through the hallway curiously trying to see what’s happening, “We made this together. A baby is just… I’m not sure we could handle that right now. Not like this.”

“I’ll take care a you both! You don't gotta worry about money or who’s gonna take care a the kid. I’ll get as many jobs as it takes, I’ll do anythin’ I needta to make sure you both have everythin’.” he insists. Your Gazpacho nudges him softly with a claw, earning a “not now” from him until a bit of an ice beam gets his attention.

“What the hell!” he exclaims.

“Gazpacho,” you begin, “Don’t do that to people- what have you got there buddy?”

In terms of spellbinding events, today seems to have it out for you. Guzma’s Golisopod makes a soft content noise when your Gazpacho lowers his arms, an egg cradled between its claws. Strange... The daycare people seemed to have a point. Never have you and Guzma actually seen any sort of love take place between the two Pokémon, they just cuddle often and stroke each other with their large claws. This egg from Gazpacho and Gumdrop seems to really have come out of nowhere... None the less, Golisopod places the egg gently in the space between you and Guzma, returning to his innocent little mate and looking expectantly at the two of you. Guzma can’t say anything. He reaches for it at the same time you do, and without missing a beat you both cradle the egg between the two of you.

“I… I guess we are having a baby after all.” you say, smiling at Guzma’s widened eyes. He’s completely enraptured with the egg, fascination with bugs showing clear as day now that he’ll have the opportunity to witness one being born.

“And I guess… Maybe after this little guy hatches… Maybe we can talk about the baby thing a little more. See if we’re ready.”

“I’d like that babe.” He smiles.

At least, if the crib he’s purchased cannot yet contain a baby, it can be used as a soft nest for a Pokémon egg.


	2. You've Made His Dream Come True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt I received and expanded upon. I'm so happy I got the chance to write it. Added a bit more because I don't want to do my critiques for today.

“Whatcha doin’ babe?”

He finds you preoccupied in the living room with your Meowth and a newly hatched Wimpod, working away intently on something and scratching your head every so often as you concentrated. It's about four thirty p.m., Guzma's got work busing tables at Sushi High Roller in about thirty minutes, and he's hopeful about garnering your favor after the big fight you both had last night in bed. It had gotten pretty fierce, into the "said things I shouldn't have said" territory, ending with your tears and running from him wrapped up in sheets to sleep fitfully on the chair in the living room.

“A friend of mine taught me how to crochet with these cute miniature needles,” you respond cooly, showing him the instruments hanging from a keychain with a Joltik on it. “I’ve been trying to make some things for you in my downtime. But you can’t look at all of them until this is done.”

Guzma chuckles. You're talking at least now. He places a kiss on your forehead and kneels down beside you. You look so picturesque sitting there in his old La-Z-Boy from the Shady House with your little crochet hooks, almost like a little old lady sitting comfortably by the fire. Your Meowth was at your feet, alternating between preening herself and the red Wimpod that chirruped with delight (Guzma has given him the rather humorous moniker of "Doritos Locos", "Dorito" for short). When Meowth felt her young charge was reasonably clean and let him scurry away, she began rubbing her milky white fur against you. A soft “meooow” came forth when she noticed your yarn bouncing gaily on your lap.

“You can’t have it Cupcake.” You told her, “This is mommy’s yarn.”

“Mew.”

“Nah uh. No yarn for you.”

Guzma stood and went about his business while you alternated between working on your little project and arguing with Meowth. He was intent on getting a few things done around the house before departing for work tonight, but every now and again he devoted some of his time to working on the crib where the little red Wimpod had made a nest for itself out of the now cleaned and soft material. Wimpod followed him closely, his small scruffy mouth feelers tickling Guzma's ankles until he was picked up and placed in the crib. Both of your Golisopod were in their Pokeballs, so Guzma took a bit of time to play and cuddle Wimpod until it snored gently in the crib. When he looked down at the baby Pokémon a soft sigh escaped from his throat. As much as he loved to raise bug Pokémon they were no substitute for the real baby he so desperately wanted. It seemed as though you two would never conceive. True you’d reluctantly agreed to at least try after getting your insert taken out of your arm, but after you both found out that it still took months for the medicine to wear off, he’d almost given up hope. Every night your embrace welcomed him he could feel his heart break little by little. His fervent wishes never ceased, and every night he whispered to your stomach begging for a bouncing, happy little creature to begin forming by morning.

It wasn’t as though your mind hadn’t changed however. You’d been pretty open to it now that the league had settled down some, and especially now that Professor Kukui had gotten his sorry shit together and began scheduling league challenges on an annual basis rather than spur of the moment as before. You still received a hefty pension for the off time you took, and in the meantime you alternated between helping Guzma raise Wimpod and taking care of more things around the house. It left room for you to accept the idea of a baby, and your love blossomed. But still you hadn’t shown any signs, the medication was still in your bloodstream, and the doctor was convinced it wouldn’t happen anytime in the near future.

“Guzma!” you called from the living room, snapping him out of his thoughts, “You can come see what I made for you now!”

After tucking Wimpod in a nest of blankets he reenters the living room where you remain on the purple La-Z-Boy. You tossed the yarn towards your Meowth, letting her play enthusiastically while you reached to the side for your little crafts bag.

“Ok,” you said, “So the first thing I made you is a hat.”

A miniscule cap made of red yarn with a flower on the crown is placed into his hand. The capitulum of the flower is a small white button, while the petals are made of the same yarn as the hat. Hardly big enough to fit in his large hand, and Guzma couldn’t imagine how in the world such a tiny thing would even begin to fit on his head.

“Ok…” he said cautiously, “Uh… I love it babe?”

“Hold on!” you insisted, “I’m not done!”

Other little trinkets were put in his hand: A sweater that might have fit a Spinarak, little teal yarn shorts, miniscule mittens, all made of yarn and impossibly small for his large hulking frame. You were about to hand him whatever else you had been working on when he stopped you.

“Babe. I gotta say these are pretty good, but ya suck at measuring.” He said gravely, “I get the hat kind of, but how the hell am I gonna get them other things on when ya made ‘em for a damn Joltik!”

“Oh! They’re not for you to wear!” you laughed, “I made them for you to give to someone else!”

“Who babe? A Caterpie?”

You shook your head, still laughing slightly and reaching into your pack where you gave him two extra items. He didn’t get the little red and black booties at first, but looking at the other object made him rethink what you had said.

“Babe?”

“Yeah?” you grinned.

He held up a thin bit of white plastic. What’s this? was written on his face.

“It’s positive.” You smiled.

“Huh?” he was confused. Utterly unable to grasp what you were trying to tell him indirectly. You got off the La-Z-Boy and showed it to him a little more closely.

“See how the two lines right here are pink?” you asked.

“Yeah…” Guzma replied cautiously.

“It’s positive.” You replied with a smile. “Took it this morning.”

“I…”

Sighing, you took the test out of his hand. Taking hold of his hand in yours, fingers caressing the callouses built up from years of fighting and pent up aggression, you placed it under your shirt and onto your stomach where he could feel your warm pudgy flesh. His eyes widened. His throat closed off and he could not find the breath to express what he felt at the moment his skin connected with yours and he understood.

“Get it now?” you asked softly with a gentle smile.

Guzma began to cry.


End file.
